Class Reptilia

Ember leaned closer to the mirror, squinting as she manipulated a pocket knife around a scale on her jaw. When the blade caught the edge, she applied some force on the handle, prying the scale upwards until it came loose in her palm. It was roughly keeled and the color of unpolished gold, just like the scale that her mother had given Orthus. She added it to the growing pile on the edge of her sink.

Although the bite of the knife stung only a little, the act of peeling off her scales made her feel as though she was wearing her mother's skin, and she was relieved when she could snap the blade closed and examine her handiwork. Her skin was dotted with little pink diamonds, some oozing blood where she had accidentally cut too deeply, but it would be subtle enough to pass for pox scars by the start of the mission.

At the thought of scars, she reached into a basket under her sink, remembering something Morgan had bought her the last time she'd come back from the city. It was a metal tin, stamped with the symbol of Mendel's apothecary and labeled with ingredients: argan oil, beeswax, arrowroot powder, and pigment. It was designed to conceal scars or skin spots, and though Ember had appreciated the gesture, she had yet to find an occasion to wear it.

She twisted off the lid and looked inside. The mixture was waxy, the color of milk tea. It was a far cry from the makeup of Ciradyl's aristocracy, which she had seen only when the dean's wife had visited Wentworth, and for an even briefer time when the royal family had appeared at holy celebrations. That makeup had been white and paint-like, made from the lead and arsenic that Ember now knew was toxic.

She put a finger into the tin and experimented with rubbing the mixture over the de-scaled spots. It was lighter than she had expected, and if she dabbed carefully it blended in nicely with her unmarked skin. Carefully, she added another pea-sized amount to the pair of membrane-covered heat pits between her nostril and cheekbone, until they were only visible from close-up. Making a mental note to thank Morgan, she added the tin to her pack.

The rest of her appearance was a different matter. She could keep her fangs retracted—or even file them down, if need be—but the lines of her face were slightly too sharp for a human, and her pupils were slitted instead of round. But she was certain that the Linnaeans, for whom passing as human had been a matter of life and death for centuries, would have developed some sort of solution.

She chewed on a fingernail. With the deadline approaching, she was realizing just how unprepared she was for the mission. She could only hope that her team members, whomever they might be, would be willing to help fill the gaps in her knowledge.

***

Ember broke one of Corax's rules on the day before the expedition when, in a secluded clearing outside of the mammalia dorm, she told Carn and Naz everything that had happened in the headmaster's office.

"Mr. Ernold knew best after all," Naz mused. She was sitting so close to Ember that their knees were touching, and although she had yet to express any misgivings, Ember could trace the worry etched into her face. "I will bring him these tidings during our next visit."

"You will visit him while I'm gone?" Ember asked, turning to face her.

"Yes," she nodded. "I'm growing used to the Old Forest, I think, and I feel terrible that Mr. Ernold is there all by himself. He reminds me of my own grandfather."

"I'll go too, of c-course," Carn added, his head between his knees. His golden-furred dog licked at his face in an effort to cheer him up, although he still kept one watchful eye on Ember, which she couldn't help but find a little bit charming.

"Thank you both," she replied, touched by their compassion. Before the margay's attack, Carn had wanted badly to be a mainland scout, but she sensed no jealousy in him.

"I brought you something," Naz said, her voice no longer light-hearted. She dug through her backpack with one hand, pulling out a stack of paper and handing it to Ember.

Ember looked over the first page curiously. It was titled with a bolded name that she didn't recognize, and the rest was dense with the pisces's slanted handwriting. It seemed like a long list of details about somebody: their physical description, occupation, rank, and personality. She flicked through the rest of the stack, finding three more bolded names followed by similar descriptions of varying lengths. The pages suddenly seemed very heavy.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

She swallowed."What is this?"

"It's a report, of sorts," Naz replied, her hands clasped together in the way that meant she was nervous. "On the other members of the rescue mission. I thought- well, I'm afraid that the others might know each other already, and use that to keep you at arm's length. I wanted to help."

Ember touched her fingertips to her forehead, too stunned to speak. "But this… this is highly classified information, Naz. How in the world did you get this?"

"I've been working on it for a while," she admitted. "Orthus gave me the names after I told him I wanted to help you, and Carn looked through the records."

A short, incredulous laugh burst from Ember's throat. "I don't even want to know what Corax would do if he saw this."

"What he doesn't know can't hurt him," Naz said airily, regaining some of her usual humor. "You can read it now and burn it when you get back to the reptile dorm."

Ember held the papers in both hands, a painful ache in her chest. "I don't know how to thank you."

"I'm sorry we can't do m-more," Carn said hiccupped, and she leaned over to throw her arm around him.

"Even if we could go, we would just hold Ember back," Naz chided, but when she met Ember's eyes her gaze was beseeching. "But she must promise to return."

Ember took a breath. Affection for her friends welled up in her chest, intermixed with the heady anticipation for what the next day would bring. She knew, then, that if she were to be punished for defection, she could count on the two of them to look after her father.

"You don't hold me back," she said. "You are my closest friends. And I will do my best to return."

***

It was a clear night when Ember arrived at Mendel's northern gate. The constellations glowed overhead like holes punched through a vast black sheet, and she stayed close to the trunks of the great trees, letting the shadows drape over her like a cloak.

What little sleep she had gotten had been restless at best. Laying in bed with her eyes wide open, she had whispered the words on Naz's report—long since burned—into the darkness. She had packed and repacked her backpack until she was confident she had everything she needed: basic provisions, a set of human clothes, the makeup tin, and writing materials. Her fang knife, of course, hung on her hip.

It was her infrared that picked up the figure waiting by the gate. She was poised against a burl in the wall, tall and thin so that she looked like a part of the tree itself. Ember slipped closer, certain that the woman was part of the mission, although she had expected a group. Maybe the others will join later?

The woman did not react as Ember drew near. She wore black, loose clothing that draped over her frame like weeping willow branches, and in the moonlight, her skin was translucent enough to see the veins beneath the surface. She emitted a dangerous aura, although it was different from the apex predators Ember had faced; it felt unknown, like dark, still water. She paused, struck by the strangeness of not being able to guess the woman's species.

"Good evening," Ember said softly, feeling a little self-conscious, "I'm Ember Whitlock."

The woman's chin tilted up, pale irises regarding Ember cooly. She wore a black veil over the bottom half of her mouth, so it was difficult to discern her expression. Ember shifted, second-guessing herself, when finally she gave a nod. "Follow me."

To Ember's surprise, the woman walked only a couple of meters before stopping in front of a large gap in the tree wall, which she ducked through effortlessly. Ember frowned, unease pooling in her gut. She had been close to the gate on several occasions, and she had never seen such a substantial opening. But she had no choice but to follow, so she braced her hands against the bark and put one leg through. At the moment she ducked her head, when most of her body was encased by bark, the wood pulsed like a beating heart.

She reacted as if shocked, stumbling in her haste to untangle herself from the trees. "Holy shit," she breathed, looking back at the gap, which stood perfectly still and unassuming. "What-"

"Come on," the woman said, her voice low but punctuated enough to convey irritation. "We must reach the outer edge of the forest before dawn."

Ember closed her mouth with an audible click. Somewhere nearby, a crow cackled, and she was at once aware of being watched. A sense of displacement so strong came over her that she had to throw it off physically, like oxen refusing the yoke.

A bad omen, she thought, forcing her feet to follow the woman into the cover of the forest.

When she risked a look back, the gap in the wall was gone, although it might just have been a trick of the darkness.